Shot
by DiabloCat
Summary: Short little fic, rather random. Darien gets shot.


DiabloCat: Short little tale that I threw together cos I felt like it. Nothing special.

SHOT

Darien Fawkes bit his lip as he staggered towards the place where he knew Hobbes was. He didn't even have enough energy to Quicksilver. It was a race. A race between him getting to Hobbes and him collapsing unconscious.

A moan escaped from his lips as he moved forwards. Every step jolted his body, and waves of agony shuddered up and down, radiating from his wound.

The place where he had been shot.

Darkness obscured his vision, and Darien paused for a moment, desperately trying to stay conscious. If he blacked out – he was gone. He'd bleed to death on the floor, and that would be that. No more Invisible Man. No more Darien Fawkes.

He bit his lip harder, drawing blood. The darkness slowly drew back, though it still hovered at the edge of his vision. He didn't have much time. He had to move fast. Or, at least, as fast as he could.

If only he hadn't lost the com system. Then he could contact Hobbes, get help sooner. But that wasn't an option. If he was going to get help, he'd have to do it himself.

Step after step, metre after metre, Darien dragged himself to where Hobbes' van was waiting. He was bent over double, clutching at the bullet wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Nearly there, he told himself. Nearly there. Just keep going, don't black out, nearly there...

Hobbes was sitting in his van, tapping the dashboard impatiently. Where on earth had the kid got to? He should have retrieved the files and be sitting in the van by now, smiling his cocky grin. But he wasn't. And he'd lost contact some time ago. But that was no biggie. Fawkes was hopeless with technical equipment. Brilliant with a lock-pick, but absolutely useless when it came to technology.

Hobbes looked out the window, an irritable frown on his face – and froze. Someone was staggering towards the van. They looked badly hurt. No, it couldn't be...but it was.

It was Fawkes.

Hobbes shoved the door open so fast it rebounded back into him. Hobbes pushed it again, frantically, clambered out of the van, and dashed towards his partner, just as Darien slumped down onto the ground.

"Fawkes! What happened?"

Darien blinked up into the blurry face of Hobbes. The darkness was back again, lurking on the edges, threatening to take over. He tried to pull his pain-muddled thoughts together.

"What...ahh...does it...look like happened?" he growled. "Security...in the side..." Darien broke off with a groan. His eyes started to close.

"No! Fawkes, you gotta stay awake. Come on, stay with me."

Darien frowned slightly. He'd come all this way, and now Hobbes wouldn't let him rest. It didn't seem fair.

Hobbes hissed through his teeth as he saw the bullet wound in the former thief's side. Blood was everywhere, constantly seeping through his shirt. He had to get Fawkes some help, fast.

He fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone, quickly flipped it open and dialled the number. Ring ring...come on, Claire...ring ring...Darien's breathing grew slightly more ragged...ring ring... "Hello?"

"Oh, thank God. Claire, we got a big problem."

Claire's voice sharpened. "Is Darien QSM again?"

"No." This reminded Hobbes of something. He took a swift glance at the kid's wrist. There were still a lot green blocks left. "Nah, he's fine on that count. But he's been bad hurt."

"What? How?"

"Gunshot wound to the side. Looks like he's lost a lot of blood. And still losing it. He's too weak to move."

Hobbes heard a gasp on the other end. "Is he alright?"

"He is now, but he won't be if he doesn't get help fast!"

Claire switched to her professional manner, hiding her worry behind action. "We'll be over right away. Keep Darien warm, and don't let him fall asleep."

"Yeah, I know."

"Okay, we'll be there in a bit."

"Good. Hurry up. I think he's getting worse."

With those cheerful parting words, both Claire and Hobbes hung up. Hobbes turned back to the kid. Jesus, he was really pale. His eyes were drooping again.

"Fawkes. Hey, Fawkes? Look at me."

Darien's eyes rolled up, and stared blearily into his partner's face.

"Good. You gotta stay awake, okay? You done a pretty good job so far, can't be too hard, right?"

The kid managed to cock an eyebrow, and even gave a weak grin. "That...that's what you...think."

Hobbes raised an eyebrow in return. "Oh yeah? Doesn't seem like that hard a thing to do to me." He was trying to keep Fawkes occupied and conscious.

Fawkes opened his mouth to reply, but shut it with a grimace.

The next ten minutes were some of the tensest in Hobbes' life. He'd been in danger before. He'd faced almost certain death. But nothing was as bad as seeing your partner fade before your eyes. If they were killed outright, it was bad, but there wasn't that annoying element of hope in there. Hope that kept you wired, frantic, terrified.

Finally, after what seemed like eternity, the medics arrived. Hobbes watched, numb with worry, as they lifted the wounded Fawkes onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. He barely noticed Claire standing beside him, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He'll be fine," she murmured.

Hobbes heaved a sigh and put his hands in his pockets. "Sure hope so." He gave a short laugh. "Who'd of thought I'd actually get attached to the guy? Well, there you have it."

Claire smiled sadly, then looked at her watch. "Do you want to grab a bite to eat before going to the hospital?"

The burly man looked at her in surprise. "How did you know that's where I was going to go?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "Oh, give me some credit Hobbes. Where else would you go? I doubt anyone could STOP you from checking up on Darien."

Hobbes smiled. "True. So, what were you saying about a bite to eat?"

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Darien cracked open one eye slightly, and winced as the harsh white glare of the hospital assaulted his brain.

"Huh, took you long enough!"

A familiar voice sounded out from his left. It seemed to reverberate through his skull. Darien squeezed his eyes shut. Why did Hobbes always have to be so loud? He waited for the pounding to subside, then opened his eyes.

"Hey." His voice sounded croaky, and the inside of his mouth was coated with slime. Ugh, gross taste too.

"How're you feeling?"

"Like crap. What do you expect?"

Hobbes shrugged. "Something like that. Especially considering you nearly died on the way here."

"I did what?"

"Yep. Blood loss. Your heart tried to give out on the paramedics. Fortunately, it didn't succeed."

Just then, Claire entered, balancing two sandwiches and two glasses of water.

Darien grinned. "Lo Keepy."

Claire looked up, startled, then broke into a smile. "Well, about time you came round!"

"Why is that the first thing everyone says to me?" Darien shook his head in mock gloom, ignoring the throb of pain. "So how long was I out?"

"Oh, about a two weeks," Hobbes said offhandedly.

The Invisible Man gaped. "Two weeks! Seriously?"

Claire nodded. "You were in a bad condition when they brought you in. Severe blood loss..."

"...and I nearly died in the ambulance, I know. Hobbes told me. So what day is it?"

"Monday."

"Sheesh, great way to start the week. Wake up in hospital and find out you came within an inch of meeting your maker."

Hobbes grinned. "Yeah, but your maker decided he didn't like you and tossed you back again, so it ain't that bad."

"Good for him."

"Definitely. I know what you're like and if I was God, I wouldn't want you either."

"Hey!"

The pair glared at each other for a moment, and then Darien sniggered. They both cracked up, and Claire couldn't help but join in.

Everything was going to be okay.

THE END

DiabloCat: Like I said, nothing special. Still, I hoped you enjoyed it.


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